


Coming Clean

by rijane



Category: Moonlight - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-13
Updated: 2010-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rijane/pseuds/rijane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth gets the chance to take care of Mick for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Clean

The door clicked shut and Beth heard his light steps. She'd taken one half the headphones out hours ago, pounding music in one ear and waiting for him in the other. Her hands stilled from the keyboard and her lungs finally pumped without effort.

"Beth, what are you doing up?" Mick froze.

"Working," she lied. She saw the blood. Wiped but smeared at his mouth. His shirt was stained, black in the shadows. She saw his whitewashed eyes, his biting teeth. Everything he tried to hide in the light of day.

"Let me clean up," Mick darted away from her.

Beth shut the laptop lid, chasing him softly. She found him in the darkened bathroom, hunched over the sink with gulps of mouthwash agitating, water splashing over his face. Spigot on full force, he scrubbed his hands. Not with their soap, but with the bitter bar below, its pungent smell and hard granules moving against his skin.

"Need some help?"

He dropped the soap as she flicked on the lights.

"I didn't mean to keep you up," he fished for it. "I should have called."

"It looks like you were busy." She moved to him, brushed a thumb over the faint rust stains. “Yours or theirs?"

"Theirs." Beth put prodding fingers to his face where echoes of cuts and stabs had recently faded. "Mostly."

“Sit.” Mick followed orders and sat with relief on the toilet. Beth quickly found a soft sponge and dialed the water back to a steady stream.

Starting at his face, she wiped away the blood in circles, rinsed, repeated until the water ran clear.

Then her fingers pulled at his buttons, and opened his shirt to see the mosaic of blood left behind, swipes and scratches healed. As she tried to ease the soaked fabric off, he winced. Beth snaked behind him. The gash was raw and wide, streams of dark blood falling now that his shirt didn't stem the flow.

“What happened?” Beth tried not to make it sound like an accusation.

“I wasn't looking,” he shrugged and winced again. “A silver knife.”

“Silver?” She tickled the edges of it, trying to wash away the blood without making more. A squeeze of cool water washed away the worst and left him wet.

“He didn't know. Just lucky.” But Mick was not. It was deep.

Beth wrapped around him and set the sponge in the sink, shut the water off.

“It's not healing, Mick,” she shifted in front of him. He moved as though to stand, but she blocked him, gave a gentle push back down. Mick looked away. “No.”

She settled on his lap, a hand to his cheek. He was cold, always so cold, and Beth wanted to warm him from the inside out.

"Mick, you've had 24 years. Let me take care of you for once," Beth whispered. They paused and she swore she heard the blood leaving him.

At last he nodded. She tangled a hand in his dripping curls and, a breath of him, pulled his lips against the rush of her skin.

He held.  
Then bit.

She felt her blood flow and his stop, a hand hushed over his back, the skin knitting to perfection. He finished with a last lap of her.

Mick tucked into her, still.

 

Beth moved first, slipping to her knees, and untied boots, pulled at socks. Then she pulled him to the shower.

This time she held him and let the water flow.


End file.
